Through A Child's Eyes
by riynariddle
Summary: Harry is 5. He has just discovered his mummy won't be coming back. Ever. *R/R*


Disclaimer: JKR just aint buying my ideas about how much _better_ HP could be…

A/N: Year 1 is for 5/6 year olds, incase anyone reading is from a different country and doesn't know that.

Mummy's dead.

That's what Auntie Petunia told me today. I think she was sad, cause she turned away and that's what the teachers do at school when they look at me. Dudley says the teachers think I'm sad. I don't know why. I think it might be because of mummy.

I don't see why she should be dead though. She's always alive in my dreams, and she cuddles me tight. When Dudley's kicked me the day before, she wipes my tears away and whispers that she loves me ever so much. 

I don't know _why _she'd be dead.

'When's mummy coming home?' I asked at breakfast, because Auntie had always said when mummy and daddy came back I would go back to living with them. Dudley rolled his eyes. It looked funny, but I don't think I was meant to laugh, cause he kicked me when I did. It hurt. But Uncle Vernon tells me off when I cry, so I didn't.  But Uncle Vernon told me off anyhow. I don't know why, I suppose I must've been naughty without realising.

'Stop annoying your aunt,' he snapped at me, and bits of spit flew out of his mouth. A bit landed on me, and I was scared that if I wiped it off he'd just yell at me more.

Last night I had a dream where I was drowning in Uncle Vernon's spit. It all got into my mouth and nose and ears. It tasted funny. Like baked beans.

'But Auntie Petunia, when's mummy coming back?' I asked again, clearing the table and following Auntie into the kitchen.

'Mummy isn't coming back,' she hissed, bending right down over my ear. 'Mummy wont _ever _be coming back, least of all for _you_. She's dead. She died years and years ago. She's rotting in the ground now. And good riddance. _Mummy's dead_!'

She laughed when she said that. I suppose it's some kind of adult joke that I'm too little to understand. But Dudley had followed me, and he laughed too. But he's older than me, so I suppose Auntie and Uncle tell him the things I'm not allowed to know.

I can always hear them talking, when I'm in my cupboard. Sometimes their voices keep me awake all night long, and follow me into my dreams. It gives me a sore head when they do. I think Dudley does it on purpose.

The night before last night I had a dream when I was locked in the cupboard, and Mummy was trying to let me out. But she couldn't find the key. She was screaming and banging on the door, and I think she was crying. Then she just stopped, and I didn't hear her again. I sat all alone in my cupboard.

I cried that night, and then my blanket was all soggy and I couldn't get back to sleep.

'You're mummy's dead!' hissed Dudley on the way to school. Everyone is so much better than me at school, Dudley says. Dudley knows lots about school, even though we've been going for the same time. All the teachers hate me, but they're sad about me too, Dudley says. Dudley is nasty at school. He kicks me. And everyone laughs at me when I cry.

'I know,' I replied, skipping alongside him. Auntie Petunia clicked her tongue in that funny little way only grown ups can do. She doesn't like me skipping. I don't know why though. _I _like me skipping.

At break-time today Dudley and his friends lay me play with them. I don't usually be allowed to play. Dudley says it's because I'm _stupid. _I suppose he must be right, as he knows much more than me. I shall ask Auntie Petunia what it means after tea tonight.

I didn't like the game very much, but Dudley and his friends said I should be pleased they are letting me play and not whining.

We played Wizard Burning all day long.

I wonder why wizards are burnt, though. I suppose it's because they're made out of sticks, like the guy fawkes Auntie Petunia always takes Dudley to see. But Dudley says its because they're _stupid_. I think I shall ask one.

But Dudley says they don't exist, so I don't know how they can be burnt then.

Uncle Vernon locked me in the cupboard as soon as I came home from school today. It hurt when he gripped my arm, and all his nails stuck into me. I think I must've been very naughty indeed because he hissed at me in a very angry sounding way. His voice smelt funny, and spoke funny too. Maybe he had toothache, cause I speak funny when I have sore teeth.

'You're a stupid waste of space,' he said. 'Nobody wants you, or loves you. I couldn't care less if you were dead. But we're stuck with you anyhow, and I wish we weren't. Everybody hates you. Not even you're parents wanted you, or else they'd've made more of an effort to stay alive. But they didn't. They're dead. Mummy's dead. And we're stuck with you!'

Then he threw me into my cupboard. I landed funny and it hurt. I cried myself to sleep, and his words followed me into my dreams.

_Mummy's dead_ they hissed at me. And nobody came to dry my tears.


End file.
